


Teacher’s Pet || Professor Jones

by iamnotanegg



Category: David Bowie (Musician), OC - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamnotanegg/pseuds/iamnotanegg





	1. Chapter 1

screwedupandbrilliant:  
And that’s going to be the last time I’d ever have a sleepover at Mitchell’s house before a school day. Not only did I forget my portfolio, I also forgot to bring my ten – page essay on Nihilistic Art Memes and Internet Popularity. I mean, homework before meeting the new professor to impress him is just plain pretentious. I’d have to have a word with the temporary substitute if she intends to live throughout the semester being a shitty – suck up sub, as if the principal would promote her for leaving a good impression for new teachers to follow. Tch, amateur; like that ever happens in real life.  
While Mitchell carried on a petty conversation about his boyfriend with Candice, I turned to the window with a blank expression. Would I get scolded? Would I get a timeout? Would the new professor be strict or lenient? Why am I even worrying? Gods, I am so not used to coming to school unprepared. What if he calls me, what would I do? I don’t have my portfolio and for a twenty – three year old young adult, a sleepover isn’t going to work as a pliable excuse. Fuck me senseless, I am so screwed; screwed, screwed, screwed.  
But before I could further complain, Mitchell’s voice dying into silence as the new professor walked in, I couldn’t help but sit proper, cross my fingers and sink behind the student in front of me. Looks like being small had its perks.

professordrjones:  
“Fucking fuck…” I muttered under my breath, rushing though the labyrinth of old corridors trying to find the room I was due to start teaching in. The semester was now in full swing but it was only my second day here, and now I was late for the first class with some new students. I needed every second with them. The sub the school had used was not up to any acceptable standard and I would not have it resting on my reputation if the work produced wasn’t good enough, even if this internet topic wasn’t deemed serious, we would move onto more forms of popular culture and arts influence. “Finally…” Room 232. I pushed my hair back into place and listened to the noise coming from the room Deep breath Jones, time to turn it on. The chatter instantly died down. “Good morning, please excuse my tardiness, I can assure you I won’t be making a habit of it.” I moved my eyes around the room, a small class, not like the huge lecture theatres I was used to. I sighed internally at only being five minutes behind. “My name is Professor Jones, I know it’s a stuffy school and that’s what they want you to call me but, as times goes on you can call me David, you are meant to be adults, I have been told…” Still no sounds come from them, even when I thicken my accent to a more comical cockney one. It really doesn’t matter if it’s their first or last day, students always look at you with a mixture of fear and apprehension to not fuck it up. “My office is always open to those students who want to help themselves and I do accept bribes… You can laugh, I don’t bite.” *hard* I think to myself. Focus Jones, focus. “Now, I will expect a lot of you and we have a huge amount to cover, so I believe there is no time like the present to start, but informally today so please don’t be fearful.” I sit on the desk and knock my shoes together, their young faces still not sure what to make of me. I pick on them at random, trying to find out what level they are working at. Most just grunt back or a quick panicked look before rushing through their work. “Tell me… student desperately trying to hide in the fourth row… where are you up to? Is there anything lacking, or you don’t understand?” I flick my eyebrows up at the girl. She never avoided my gaze but she clearly didn’t want the attention

screwedupandbrilliant:  
At least I wouldn’t feel bad about messing today up since the Prof – man was late; a good five minutes compared to leaving your homework and portfolio behind like a third – grader? Not even close, I am so screwed. I keep reiterating my fate as if it would make a difference and apparently, as we all know, it would not. The ten – page essay would still be at Mitchell’s house, on her cluttered desk and my portfolio would be tucked somewhere under Mitchell’s bed because we spent hours pillow – fighting in our knickers like some pretend – Victoria’s Secret model on a photoshoot. Of course, I was taking the photos and well, the girls were just up and about; kicking everything, including my folder, under the bed. What fun a drag.  
Suddenly, the room was echoed of awkward laughter; the type you give your boss or your teacher just so they won’t fail or fire you. The type of laughter you also give your mom when they tell you events of umpteen years ago and you needed that extra buck so bad, you sit there and take it in. That was us, Class 232; bunch of creative rebels who barely make it in the real world because half of us are freelancers and we all know how shitty the pay is. Young adults with student loan debts eating right out of noodle cups and goodies you can find at the dollar store; painting, shooting photos, writing and drawing our hearts out while being ridiculed by society because “art can’t get you anywhere”.  
I couldn’t keep my eyes off our new hottie – professor; middle – aged, daddy – material with a British accent. Talk about Instant Crush by Daft Punk and Casablancas, yummy.  
“No, sir.” I answered softly, praying to all the gods that ever existed that no snitch raises up the sub gave us homework for Professor Jones to check; an essay on Memes. By the time I answered, I couldn’t stare at him any further; I had to look elsewhere, running my fingers over my hair and hiding behind the messy lock, sinking in my chair.

professordrjones:  
It wasn’t exactly my favourite thing to make students feel awkward but they where the older class; meant to be adults now. I had to be a bit tougher.  
“Right, first rule of this class,” they all tensed in their seats, especially the girl, a nervous blush coming to her face. “you don’t have to call me Sir, Professor I can live with but you lot are meant to be the big kids here and I certainly don’t look like the other tweed professors around her. So it’s David-never Dave,mind you, but I’m English we don’t call anyone but judges Sir.”  
I smile and try to raise their moods, especially towards the girl i probably embarrassed.  
“We’re doing bloody art! Look I want you guys to pass and if I’m honest, I’ve seen your work and you’re behind. We need to start dropping these walls and fear if you are going to get out of this alive. I’m going to request everyone comes to see me today or tomorrow. I’ve made a time sheet and I’ve put your names on. It’s an hours slot but if you can’t stay don’t worry or if you need to change but I want to see you all, with essays-yes she told me- and work done this year at the latest by Friday. So check your names on the sheet, bring some questions, if you’re good I might even have a box of some horrible American sweet for you.”  
I see them all sigh and groan, as they realise it’s going up a gear, but it must be done.  
“Anyone who doesn’t attend without good reason, I must say, consider yourself dead to me… Still nothing? Going to be a longgggg year if you lot don’t cheer up! Go on then, let’s you ones with lost essays try and find them.” I wink but they still seem less than enthused to have me there.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
At least he doesn’t seem to be a stick – up - your – ass kind o’ guy, that’s a relief. He smiled but I guess I wasn’t too overly happy about being called out, then again, I totally deserved it. Imagine if he’d hear my excuse of leaving my homework after a sleepover before a school day, he’d probably lop me off in front of everybody. And it’d be a shame because I’m such a good girl, you know? I’ve always done my exams to proper, passed with flying colors, submitted my projects in time and would often ask for extensions beforehand if needed; today really just wasn’t my day.  
I had to wait for Mitchell to finish using the bathroom for over an hour, rush, get dressed and leave my shit at their place. Now the essay I poured my heart out into is just scrap. Do I make one? Do I rush all the way from school to there and risk not having lunch? I guess I should; art class covers four hours today since we’re so behind; two, lunch for an hour, and another two before Literature. I can still rush in time, but at what cost, hunger?  
Considering he did say we could sort of pick a schedule or so, I had to try. I did not spend days doing that essay before my wicked sleepover only to be set into the bin. Everyone was already feeling the pressure and taking out some undone work and references; and though I’ve done mine like a responsible student, I left it. Bollocks.  
Slowly rising from my seat and joining some of the students have at the professor’s time schedule, I went behind the desk and softened my voice. God, he looks amazing, shit. Biting my thumb as I often would, I swallowed hard and rubbed the back of my neck. “Uh… David…? Can I… Can I have the schedule after lunch? I promise you, I’d have my paper turned in.”

professordrjones:  
I moved back behind my desk, waiting to collect their work and finished sheet.  
I watched the class disburse a bit, essays being placed next to the sign up sheet.  
I snapped my head up a voice, the girl I called out before. She was clearly nervous, biting at her thumbs like a nervous little girl before a punishment… The only situation I don’t mind being called Sir in.  
“Erm…” Shit. I had barely listened to her question. “Could we say at about 12:30? I have meeting in the afternoon, and between me and you,” I lowered my voice so she had to move in closer. “I have no bloody idea where it is.” I grinned hoping to make her less nervous to talk to me. If she was this shy through out the one to one I know had a good excuse to end it early, like I said I would only help them if they where willing to put in some effort. “But in all seriousness, if you haven’t done the work please don’t waste my time with something half produced. Bring your lunch with you if you are running short on time, I don’t mind, because it’s my only chance today too.”  
I looked around the room, only a couple of bodies left at the back, clearly waiting for the girl next to me.  
“What’s your name, so I can tick you off my list?”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
And you’d think even a classy man like him would know all the answers, ha! Serves him right, hope he gets lost finding where the boardroom is; normally that’s where they hold meetings and it’s a good travel from this wing to the other.  
I’m not all sinisterly as I appreciate his need for quality. Some teachers have become so numb that as long as it’s ten pages or twenty, it’d be an automatic plus; that or if you’re daddy’s the Dean, then you get automatic A – plus, plus. But I’m not like those lazy – ass students who crams and do things at the last minute; I like to take my time and savor the work given so I’d have enough legroom to do modifications. By heavens, I wouldn’t have gotten this scholarship if I didn’t work my ass off, would I?  
“Uh…” My name isn’t really something you’d enjoy telling boys without getting the eye. I guess my parents didn’t really think it through. It was meant to be classy and really sheik but turns out, if you’re outnumbered by boys in the streets on your way home, being catcalled is to be expected if you’ve a name like mine. “Minx…. With an ‘X’.”  
I couldn’t help but look away, half expecting a cheesy, catcall – joke but also half expecting he’d be professional about it. Quickly, I added to avoid an awkward pause. “I’ve done my portfolio two days in advance. I just need to get it.” Whether he’d buy that excuse or not, I was not going to let my effort go to waste.

professordrjones:  
I watched her small smirk, clearly enjoying something.  
“Oh right.” I bit my lip and nodded, trying to push down anything I would really like to say because she was my student and clearly not enjoying any of my shit today. “Okay, so I’ll see you at 12:30. My office is the second on the left on the top floor. Bring everything you have and we shall go over it, plan a few questions or maybe any topics you want to expand on. I’ll be yours for the hour. So, Minx with an X, I shall see you later.”  
That came out creepier than I meant it. I bit my lip even harder to stop from laughing.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
I think by now I should know where the officers are but then again, I have a horrible sense of direction so he actually did me a favor by reminding me where he’d be all cooked up. He wasn’t too bad. Frankly, I’ve had and dealt with worse; PhysEd 101 Professor is such a bitch that she thinks so highly of herself that everyone just really dropped the subject. Thank God she’s being replaced, as well as others due to a sudden shuffle; the campus needs more teaching and less on stroking their egos. Talk about teen angst and rebellion; I could be so full of myself for all I know. Whatever, ha!  
I think Professor Jones dry humor would work with the class and me, better than the substitute trying to be tough but actually failing. Would you believe he got the close to sigh and whine? He sure is something getting everyone their papers out and following in the first day. He could be good, could be bad, we are yet to find out.  
“Rad.” My tongue clicked, I winked and shot my infamous finger guns of coolness. God, I am such a sarcastic dweeb, but who knows; it could be the guns of approval. At least he didn’t take my name as a sexual predator would; let’s add the perverted Math teacher in the equation of needing to be replaced.  
I figured I’d leave early so I can grab a quick bite before handing my paper in. I’m honestly anticipating the traffic, so I picked my bag up, shoved my hand inside and pulled out a folded and slightly crumpled sheet and went back to David’s desk. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Came an assuring statement, ushering her to sign the hall pass.

professordrjones:  
The school was totally different to the one I previously taught in. Gone where the modern classrooms and casual dress from the faculty. Instead everyone looked at me like I had two heads and would start to talk about something unusual. The change would be good though, another experience to build on.  
Did she just click her tongue at me? God, this would be a tough year, not one kid here seemed like they would pay much attention, instead thinking it would be an easy class to gain some credits in before running back to some dull and serious class. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a good fit…  
“I wouldn’t make a habit of mocking me, seen as I do decide your final grade. A bribe is definitely in order for you to get back into my good books. I accept well written essays or coffee.” I said but honestly I don’t think she even listened.  
“I’ll see you then…” I scribbled across the paper and watched her and the other stragglers leave. As soon as the door shut, I leaned back and sighed. Maybe this was a bad choice. Maybe you can’t run from your problems…

screwedupandbrilliant:  
Like hell he’s going have it easy here; who does he think he is? Someone who can just march up and be dick to us all? Us who spend hours doing essays on nonsensical things and topics instead of actually painting, drawing, or taking photography to complete our portfolios? What the actual fuck? But more importantly, why am I being such a cliché angsty teen? Hadn’t I always been the good girl in class? Class presidents, student body, all that make your momma proud shindig? Now I’m just a young woman overly obsessed with her passion for arts and photography, whining about the world as if I have it though. I do, but not as tough as… Well, let’s not compare, shall we?  
I ran out, literally ran and handed the stupid pass before darting out the campus grounds to hail a cab. An expensive fucking cab because waiting for the bus would be instant death. I already am fussing about what to say to Mitchell’s mom about leaving my homework and the pleasantries that it imbues. Christ, that woman’s recollection is so beyond that the moment I said hello and slowly retrieved my bags, she was half – way done telling her stories at the spa the other night. What a chatterbox; a nice, sweet chatterbox who makes pretty awesome brownies.  
I’m a bit pissy because I’ve overestimated traffic, which there was none, and ended up spending a hard – earned thirty back and forth to school. Before entering the gates, I dropped by a local café about five miles on foot, grabbed me a pair to – go, some club sandwiches and collected myself to proper at the hall. Got my stuff shoved neatly in my bag, got my camera and portfolio too, a pair of coffee to – go in hand, my packed meal and the club sandwiched in my bag.  
Before the teacher’s lounge, or specifically, Mr. Jones’, I took a deep breath and knocked. I figured indulging him with some coffee and meal would at least send the message of thanks for letting me slide out to get my essay and portfolio. Knocking before I twisted the knob open, I peered halfway in but kept my feet out. “Uh… Professor?” I’d call him if we weren’t in class; wouldn’t want other students from other subjects and departments make a fuss out of me seeing the professor by myself.


	2. Chapter 2

professordrjones:  
I sat in my office, killing time waiting to see the girl who needed to ‘go get her work’. I didn’t hold out much hope to see her here, I must admit. I began sketching on the open note book, curve of a waist, hint of long hair coming down to blanket over any marks.  
“Come in,” I jump from my thoughts and peer round to see her full hands and small body trying to push through the door. Clearly well prepared to see me. I jumped up and pulled the door the remainder of the way open.  
“That was fast, you actually did have a portfolio then…” I say the surprised hint in my voice. “Maybe this place isn’t all so bad then…”  
She looks at me like she would rather be anywhere else…  
“Can I take anything from you? You look over loaded there,” I try and smile at her. “You could smile once in a while. It won’t kill you.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
Oh Christ, here it comes; the British charm. I hate to sound racist but you don’t see much of the West being fine gentlemen, ready to help young women like me carrying a handful. I guess you’d see some do it occasionally if it means you’re a hundred years old or you’re some sexy vixen scantily clad and showing off your assets as I call them. The gesture truly was genuinely appreciated, but man, is he such a downer. What’s with the whole ‘hope for humanity’ thing going on? Is he one of those old guys that think this entire generation sucks?  
“You’d be surprised.” Came my modest reply, shaking my head. “I got this, prof. Thank you.” Ugh, David, he said David; call him David.  
I entered his office and gently closed the door with the heel of my boot. “I had it finished two days ago.” I began, feeling the need to explain as I played two Venti’s on his desk; I’d let him pick but the Choco Java chip is mine and he’d have to settle for the Latte Macchiato. I don’t know why, but I found that predicament funny enough to actually giggle. I had to stop myself by clearing my throat and looking shyly towards my shoulder. I’m not the smiley type, but I do smile given the right reasons.  
“I didn’t know what coffee you’re into.” I stated simply, taking my cup and generously quenched my thirst with the sweet goodness. Hoisting my bag to over my chest, I took out my portfolio that contained pictures leaves, flowers, buildings and some B&W portrait I did of myself. I also took out my neatly, hand – written essay and placed both folders on his desk.

professordrjones:  
I watched her throw herself into the chair across my desk and begin to unload. She was already shortening to a less formal name. I could deal with that.  
“Awwww you’re a total star. I was only joking about the coffee. What do I owe you?” I ask, not wanting to take advantage. “You even picked right.”  
She giggled. Finally, I broke the ice.  
“Don’t be shy with me. Honestly.” I begin to blow at the hot liquid as she pulls out her essay. Neat script. “Wow so you did just leave it at home. Not a computer type?”  
I began to look over her portfolio. The photography at a much higher level than I’d seen with other students.  
“Your composition is fabulous.” I grin and pull out a few select ones. “This is really good, but what does it mean to you? Why this class? What’s your goal? You have talent and I will most certainly help in any way I can but is this just a filler or is this your main class? I don’t want to burden you if not.” I relax back into my chair with crossed legs and begin to sip at the coffee she brought.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
I didn’t want to go back again after class to pick my belongings so I figured taking everything at once would spare me time and cab fare. I live a good two blocks away from Mitchell and I was not about to spend fifty to sixty for fare, that’s just ludicrous! So here I am in Professor Jones’ office; bag pack over my chest, varsity bag on the floor full of my clothes, sleeping bag, and toiletries, my lenses, brushes, palettes and art materials. I was planning on checking in on a cheap motel up town to catch the sunset and do a quick sketch hence, all the belongings.  
“I had time to kill so I figured I’d write it down.” And that was the outmost truth; I tend to want things done on the get go so I’d have more time to laze around. I had an entire week for that essay so I put my cursive to the test. It’s quality work, I can assure him that, poured my week reading and browsing the net for that. I basically live of Memes for crying’ out loud; but maybe I just got lucky with the topic. Doubtful, I frowned briefly but hid it well behind my Venti.  
Startled by his barrage of inquiry, I scratched the back of my neck and crashed on the floor; knees high to my chest, arms held out with my elbows perched idly over each knee. I gazed up at him behind the desk, finally having to sit down after carrying such a load. “I don’t know man, I just wanna paint and take pictures, you know? Put things in paper or some shit, maybe hang them on someone’s wall for a buck.” It probably sounded petty for someone his caliber, to be an actual art professor. I shrugged and took another sip, fingers strumming idly along the paper cup.  
People often tell me my work is really something but not many wanted to help. Is he for real or is this some teacher – student BS? I couldn’t help but blush though, he sounded really sincere about praising my work. Averting my gaze, I began idly poking the carpeted floor I sat on and whispered, “Th… Thanks.”

professordrjones:  
“It’s a bullshit topic anyways. We just have to get through this bit.”  
I watched the soft blush creep up and over her skin, seemingly either embarrassed or folding under the weight of all her bags to fall to the floor.  
“Is there any reason you’re cluttering up my floor whilst there’s a perfectly good chair there? If you wreck that spot on my carpet, it’ll take a lot more than coffee, missy.”  
I turn serious and I know she’s not going to like it. “I honestly do like your work but the answer ‘I don’t know’ really isn’t good enough, is it? If you can’t even put a simple meaning behind this why should anyone else bother? Without passion this is just something on paper. With passion it’s a statement, a cry for help, a love. Without it. It’s a building, a flower and some other random assortment.”  
I don’t mind if they are taking this just for credits but I’m not prepared to waste my time if I get two pages of copied work each week.  
“I mean this looks great,” I pick up the essay and flick through. “But it is long… Are you trying to impress me or just really that bothered bout whatever it was on. I mean yours is about five times longer than anyone else’s. I’ll mark it but I prefer you stick to the guidelines in the future. Also, typed copies are preferred because I’m going to write all over them and I don’t want you getting touchy about it.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
“Chill, prof.”  
I couldn’t help it, here we go again; being reprimanded like I’m still a kid. Can he blame me for not being an overthinking prick? Can he blame me if I’m not a talker? Man, he’s already at my neck by not smiling, what does he want? Yap and tell him my entire life story, damn it! I wouldn’t battle fire with fire; I’m not going to spend minutes of my lunch debating my philosophy in life, what was that again? Hakuna Matata? Yeah, Timoneand Pumba are so my spirit animals. Maybe Simba too, but he’s got kingship going on at the Pride Lands, ain’t nobody got time for that.  
“I wouldn’t be able to ace my studies if I wasn’t passionate, David. I’m just not all chirpy and dandy, jeez.” I rolled my eyes and sighed, turning to my backpack and taking out one of the freshly made club sandwiches from the café. “Overthinking ruins the mind.” And before I could my sentence, I smiled, chuckled, winked and threw the packed sandwich at him. “Think fast!”  
I took my own out, he did say I could bring lunch; unwrapped it held it up for a toast of sort, hoping he’d join me. “I told you man, I had time. Knock yourself out.” He could write his corrections all he want or even tear it to shreds, whatever. As long as I handed my paper in, it’s his business now. “Bitch sai— I mean, Ms. Collin said write a ten – page essay. My hand doesn’t do a one – point – five spacing format.” Like I’d go through the trouble of impressing a professor, yeah right.

professordrjones:  
I bit at my lips trying to hide my smirk growing as she became more flustered with my line of questioning.  
“I think maybe ‘chill’ is a little too casual, don’t you agree. I have every right to ask these questions, how am I meant to get to know you if you clam up every time something gets emotive? I’m not asking you to be super happy. Life isn’t always happy, but I am asking you to be honest. I’m not a terrible fan of liars.”  
I watched her dig in her backpack, still sat on the floor like some child throwing a tantrum or hiding.  
Whatever she threw hit me square in the stomach, I decided to save my trousers and not spill the hot liquid on myself rather than catch it.  
“You’re a sweetheart, thank you.” I see the sandwhich now. I smile, as she says she’s not trying to impress me. The lady does protest too much. “Now seriously, what do I owe you? 10 bucks should cover it right?” I wriggle around to grab my wallet from my back pocket and slide the note over.  
“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s not lady like to use language like that?” I shoot an eyebrow up at her as I take my first bite. “I am still a teacher here, y'know.”  
I can sense she’s literally biting her tongue to not get up and start a barrage of abuse at me, but any reaction is better than nothing.  
“This is good. You’ll have to let me in on where to eat around here. I’m getting tips from those students who seem to know.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
“Whatever gets your hard, doc.” And at this point, I had to just turn my back at him, compose myself and pray that he didn’t hear it. And this is why I never fancied being close to professors or adults, so to speak. I’ve already had my share of being all too friendly with my psychiatrist that he and I are basically just trashing each other for the hell of it because he and I both know I’m totally fine, and that my mother was just into some crazy shit sending me off to a shrink every weekends. I’ve gotten so comfortable with him that he would hang with me and my friends at parties, gigs and pretty much crash each other’s plans for some laughter, food and good music. Man, had excellent taste and a very wicked humor at that, let me tell you.  
At least with Dr. Perry I wouldn’t get suspended for anything but with Professor Jones being my teacher and all, I might get expelled. I would’ve dwelled on it and uttered a petty smooth recovery but he did not just call me little. Oh – ho – ho, this obnoxious, crazy old man did not just call me some bare – footed hobbit who’s about the size of an overgrown walnut. The audacity! And there wasn’t even “gorgeous” in there, the nerve!  
“For the record David, since I’m not under your class at this very second…” Eyes squinting for emphases as I placed both my palms over my hips all defiantly. “You sir, are a dick.” Why I stuck my tongue out at a professor, I simply cannot fathom. Huffing with a pout, I turned heel and lead the way. “You’re lucky, mister. If I hadn’t have homework due next week in there, you can have my laundry…. Hmmp!”  
I walked towards where the meeting room is, right corner and up the stairs leading ahead.

professordrjones:  
I couldn’t help but laugh at her small huff and strop. God, if I didn’t have this meeting and this corridor was empty I would very much enjoy teasing her some more…  
“Oh I’m a dick? Add handsome in there and I’ll let you off.” I smirked as she turned away from me again. “So attentive to your studies, gorgeous bilbo. See I remembered this time.” I leaned close over her shoulder to whisper.  
“Just, shut your pouting and walk.” I grabbed her backpack and wiggled it to hold on through the crowd and her fast pace.  
“Okay, okay I’m sorry. It was where you said and it wasn’t nice to call you a dwarf. I am forever in your debt. Now run along and I shall see you afterwards, little one.” I turned her by her shoulders and pushed her away as the other teachers began to gather around.  
“Good afternoon,” I winked at her again as she turned one last night to pout at me.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
“Since when are dicks handsome? At least asses can be gorgeous!” And that was the last thing I said, sticking my tongue at the handsome – dick of a professor before pouting and watching the door close before me. What just happened? Did I just made a friend? Wait no, no way. That dick called me Bilbo the Blonde Baggins; that’s basically verbal abuse and harassment! Chocolate or not, he better get his shit straight or I’ll sue him. Yeah, sue him for whatever reason and get his ass expelled. Yeah, right on Minx. Right. On.  
This would have probably been the longest that I’ve smiled, laughed and mingled with a teacher. Most of them are such uptight douchebags, except for the librarian, my Lit Prof and the head professor of the Music Club; they’re pretty chill and easy to hang with. Maybe toss Professor Jones right up that alley, he seems like a pretty cool dude. Shaking my head at just how silly the whole thing was, I scratched the back of my head and carried on to my Lit Class.  
A two – hour class full of intense reading, reenactment, note – taking and actively participated discussion; god I love this subject. But alas, it has to end and I have to go all the way back to the Eastern Wing to meet with Professor Jones and get my stuff.  
It’s about to get dark soon and my stomach’s already complaining. I wish I had eaten breakfast before heading off to school, damn Mitchell and her one and a half hour bath. If David hadn’t allowed me time to get my paper and eat in his office, I’d have starved the whole day. I know, I’d hit downtown for some Asian street food, they’re open all night – everyday. The more I thought about what I’d have a go for dinner, the quicker I arrived at the professor’s office. Still locked, I sat by the door with my knees against my chest, arms folded on top and my head resting. I was so tired from all the running and travelling that I couldn’t help but doze off…

professordrjones:  
“Maybe you just haven’t met the right dick yet?… Did you really just stick your tongue out at me twice? How old are you?” I laugh and jab her again.  
I slammed into my seat. I knew this was wrong. Moving too fast. I was always on some lines friends with a lot of my students in the past but this was too far. All she had to do was cry something and I was fucked. I needed to cool it off. Needed to assert some authority over the situation. I’m sure if she wasn’t a student here or at least not in my class it would have been slightly different but it was not an option right now. I was just lonely, I assured myself and it was nice to have some conversation.  
I snapped my head up from my doodles to see everyone turned to face me seemingly awaiting an answer. “I’m sorry I’m feeling a tad overwhelmed today. Could you repeat the question?”  
It was hideous. The room was stuffy, I felt awkward not being in a suit and I just wanted to go home and relax.  
Finally, it ended, the corridors where now lit with the harsh artificial light as the sun dimmed away into the chill evening. I walked hurriedly to finally finish the day.  
I barely saw her tiny frame pressed against the frame. I stopped in my tracks. “Shit,” I whispered now knowing I was going to have to wake her.  
“Minx,” I rubbed two fingers lightly along her arm, she was ice cold from the floor. “Sweetie, you’ve fallen asleep, it’s David- Professor Jones,” I corrected myself and pulled my soft jacket off to give her. “C'mon, back to it little one.”


	3. Chapter 3

screwedupandbrilliant:  
“What took you so long…?” You know that groan – y voice you make when you’ve just waken up? And that your senses are barely active, that at the back of your mind whoever it was who woke you up probably was your mom or a relative from home reminding you to live your life accordingly? That, plus not being able to sleep well on weeknights in my new apartment because the unit across mine have been partying every single night like it’s 1976. The cops won’t own to it, the landlord hardly cared since he was two – stories up and I was the only night inhabitant in the whole corridor as the rest would spend night after night drunk in clubs and bars. Why can’t I have nice things? Ugh, I swear, I am so moving out three months from now.  
“Sorry.” I offered a quaint smile, accepting the cloth and tossing it over my shoulders. It had gone quite cold; the campus was air – conditioned tops and the advent night’s breeze was right up on the frost. I think I’m going down with a stuffy nose; that, or it’s the ‘I just woke up’ stuffy nose kind of thing.  
Rubbing my eyes, I slowly got up, nearly toppling to the side but managed to brace the wall and latch onto the doorknob. I dusted my dress from behind and stepped away from the door, picking up my backpack. “Class ended early. I didn’t want to bother you on your sched.”  
I felt a bit intrusive; me waiting for my things as if he’s obliged to tend to them. I think he would’ve gone home if my shit wasn’t in his office.  
A faint yawn, I leaned against the wall with eyes shut, savoring that nice nap. I am so ready for bed.

professordrjones:  
“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” I tried to appease her. I couldn’t stop myself smiling at her sleepy voice, very small and innocent, not the usual spunk and fire in it.  
My arm instantly flew out to grab her if she was falling but pulled back when I realised we where blurring too many lines already. Maybe I should have left her or gone and got another lecturer to help me wake her up, but then I’m sure they would ask why a students dirty clothes where left in my office.  
“It’s fine, next time just come and knock on the door or wait outside my room. I would have liked an excuse to leave, to be honest. I banged my head on the door as I unlocked it.  
I walked inside and began to pick up anything I left and pulled a thicker coat from the hook. I slung it over my shoulders, not wanting to take the one from Minx if she had nothing else.  
"Here, pass me something and I’ll walk you to your car. I’m a strong guy so I’m fairly sure it would be ungentlemanly of me to watch you struggle.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
I waited earnestly for the door to open, get my things, grab a quick bite downtime and just plummet on to my bed and sleep until morn. I’ve nothing due tomorrow but I’d need a good night’s rest to muse some inspiration for tomorrow’s art class; no doubt we’d probably start getting our hands dirty with paint or clay. If that ain’t happening any time soon, I’ll seriously flip; we’ve been doing non – stop papers and essays that I think my head just clogged all the exit ways to think outside the box.  
I was whining and groaning sleepy, pushing myself inside his office only to mount his chair, curl up and raise my hand in the air lazily. “Five minutes, babe.” I need to shake myself awake; well, not really. The stalls are going to be open till four in the morning so I can still march my gorgeous ass downtown for a bite.  
I couldn’t help but chuckle and just slide right off the chair after a minute or two, allowing him to fix his own belongings if he had any to bring home. “An art student with a car? You must be joking.” I barely get by with taking commissions and side jobs to pay my student loan, let alone own a car; then there’s rent, utilities, workbooks and miscellaneous, which sums consumes my whole salary of palettes, canvasses and lenses.  
Yawning and stretching my arms way up high, legs and feet joints too, I sat for another minute with a disheveled hair. “I walk.” I rose to my feet and picked up my backpack and slung one of the varsity bags over my shoulder, I’d let him carry the heavier one full of laundry. Well, maybe not that heavy, but heavy enough for Bilbo the Blonde Baggins. Before I could muster a snarky comeback, I shot him an inquisitive look and punched his arm lightly; a habit I have never taken out of my system since I was a kid. Besides, I’m heading out for a grub.” I threw another punch jokingly and clicked my teeth.  
I was sleep drunk.

professordrjones:  
For a split second my instinct was to grab her and throw her over my shoulder, bags be dammed. To hear that sweet laugh and feel her hands mock beat my back would be heaven.  
I coughed and pushed my smile from my face. It couldn’t happen, I reminded myself.  
“Hey, I was an art student. I had a car, but I did get most of my money from playing in bands. Yes, I was cool when I was young, it’s only multiplied as I’ve got older.” I kicked her leg softly. “Wake up, sleepy. Snow White will be missing you dwarf.”  
I was torn between offering a lift or not. Maybe she would take the bus if I offered to pay or I could drop her bags off another time or leave them in my office, but no idea seemed practical to me.  
I grabbed the bag she left, like an obedient and well trained husband following behind her. I locked the office door again and began to follow her.  
“Would you stop beating me? I’m a professor. I’m a serious man and you don’t want to mess with me, Minnie Mouse.”  
My head was screaming out to stop saying anything that could be construed as flirting but yet they kept falling from my mouth without thought. Fuck.  
“And I’m assuming you now expect your food debt to be repaid then?” Well done, David. You basically just asked a student to dinner.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
“Gorgeous! Tsk!” I glared at him with bloodshot eyes of sass as if reminding him yet again for the nth time. “Call me names but slip in gorgeous!” Another punch, but this time at his stomach; carefully, of course. So he plays, huh? I wouldn’t be surprised; you can’t be an art teacher if you haven’t discovered an intense passion for art and all its patrons. You’ve got to have the voice, the eyes and pretty much the hands to work your magic in the field; I wonder if he does photography too. I’d ask but I didn’t wanna sound so into him, wait… When did I say I was? Is it wrong to ask your professor about his personal life? Most definitely. I’ve seen way too many movies and read too many teen flicks to know where this is going. Wait, why am I even thinking about this? Well, actually no; I don’t know what’s going on, but I feel like things just slip out so naturally. Weird.  
“You and your shortcake kinks professor, how dirty of you!” I mocked him, bobbing my head side to side with a silly grin. “Hey, if it’s food and you’re paying, I’m down.”  
Now if only the boys my age knew that the easiest way to get me to smile or watch their stupid sports game was to bribe me with food, they’d probably have a shot at me. Not that I’m looking or anything; they’re just so basic. Just hard jocks who can’t even answer a simple Biology question let alone ace their studies without being varsity scholars. So. Basic.  
“Oh my god David, the food there is tops!” I was getting excited again that I grabbed him by the wrist and hurriedly ushered him out to follow me. “They’ve got these things called dango and it is delish!” I gasped all bewildered; just thinking about it made my heart race. “Best balls in your mouth action!”

professordrjones:  
“It’s not a short kink. It’s a they can wear heels and still physically smaller than me kink.”  
Oh Jesus did I really just say that…  
I double over and mock pain, even though the blow was soft and a few seconds ago. “Oh god, I’ll never recover. I’m dying. Don’t even try mouth to mouth I’m gone.”  
I feel her grab at my wrist and begin to drag me quickly down the hall. If anyone sees this cannot look good. A professor leaving his office almost hand in hand with a student after hours. And yet, I didn’t seem to care. I was just having a good time in this town where I knew no one.  
“I have so many things to say to that but I literally have none for your little gorgeous mind… Did I get that right?” I stick my tongue out at her and yank her closer by the wrist. “My car is outside. I’ll drive, cause I’m a supposedly responsible adult, but don’t get wrecked because I don’t want to have to carry you and all these bags home for you.”  
I push her away and begin walking outside.  
“C'mon then short arse.” I thicken my accent to a posher English one. “Follow Daddy, chop chop. There’s a good girl.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
“Kinky!” I paused, turning at him with my lip bitten quite suggestively; eyes squinted as I waive my finger in the same fashion. It was a brief taunt but food is food, free at that too. Same finger hurled at him into a pair of cheesy finger guns with a wink before grabbing his hand again and pulling him out the office. “Let’s go big boy, food’sa waitin’.”  
Nodding approvingly at the proper use of “gorgeous” in a grammatical sense, I couldn’t help but peer through the mirror and eagerly check the interior. They say a man’s car defines who he is; so, was he the classy type? Was the sports type? No, doubt it; arts and sports? Rare breed. I grinned at him, gesturing my hands in an explosive manner over my head. “Mind blown, right?” Spunky and cocky at the right push, that’s your typical Minx.  
“Responsible adult who can’t find the meeting room?” Did he just refer to him as Daddy?  
At that moment, I froze and I felt every bit of my body shiver that I pretended to busy myself but shuffling through my bag to pull my phone up. I gulped quietly, cheeks flushing red and thanking the skies for its brooding darkness to keep it from being visible. Two can play that game.  
“Behave you. Good girl’s starting to wonder whether you want her to ride the car or Daddy.” I laughed, oh dear god I had to. It wasn’t even awkward, it was sultry and so liberated that I had to take a moment while slipping into the backseat. I have a feeling that if I sunk well enough, people won’t notice me and that was quite the plan. So I did; I slouched back and kicked my feet up on the compartment by the hand – break. I’ve gone so lax with this man that I felt like I was hanging out with a dear friend or my Psychiatrist, who happens to be bisexually active as he calls himself, ha!  
Dress hitched up to my thighs but enough to cover me, thank god I wore stockings today. Good girl gone bad perhaps? What am I even doing? Whatever. I tapped my phone again and began going through unread messages.

professordrjones:  
I desperately tried to ignore her and ignore the sudden lost of blood from my head. My mind went blank and all I could do was pout. I couldn’t believe I’d be rendered speechless by this slip of a thing.  
I pulled open the door to my car, an older type rag top Land Rover. A little reminder of home and a great tool for going out into the wilderness or just driving around with the top off.  
“Yes, I was responsible and asked for directions. Unfortunately I asked you and you didn’t seem to be telling me the truth.”  
Minx threw herself into the back seat as I pulled her heavy bags into the rear of the cab. I tapped my head three times on the metal post when I was out of view. “Shit, shit, shit.” I whispered.  
I got myself into the car and began to sort out the little things to check, not in gear, put mirror back from adjusting hair this morning.  
I couldn’t stop the smile coming to my lips. She was sprawled out in the middle seat blocking my view. Her smile of thinking she won and feet where my arm would rest. Wait, is she wearing lingerie under that dress, was she wearing that all day or is this some plan? Is it a trap?  
“Just want some company, darling. Nothing more.” I snapped back to reality and began to move out of the lot. Driving onto the main road my hands instantly went to the arm rest and without thinking I rubbed softly at her foot.  
“So, direct me again, Grumpy.” I flicked my eyes up to he rear view mirror and tried to remember any other dwarfs names. “Sorry, I meant gorgeous.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
I got a text message from my friend telling me that he finally scored with the girl he’s been chasing for months. Proud, I was so engrossed on congratulating him via SMS that I merely giggled at the professor’s remark. If he ever was gullible at the time and got lost, he deserved it. But alas, he’s a smart aleck and forced me to escort him to the meeting room; what a dweeb. Though me babysitting the said dweeb was even more dweeb; dweeb raised to the power of ten – times two. Hey, I did math! Neat!  
“Whatever.” I giggled silly again.  
I adore being in cars and just chilling. My psychiatrist owns a really nifty car and my guy friend drives the family van since he likes camping on the side. I’m so used to being in a car that I could practically live in one. Maybe I would, someday; get out of rent and live on gas money, pimp my car up to comfort and just travel around doing commissions to get by once I graduate. That’d be a dream.  
I would’ve snapped but he did use ‘gorgeous’ in there, so I’ll let him slide. That too, being touched in the car; I mean, it wasn’t like he’s rubbing up my thigh or did it on purpose. But what is the definition of doing it on purpose? I mean, he wasn’t looking and my feet was on the way. This isn’t the first this happened; George and Collette would even smack and push my feet off. Hell, Mitchel would spritz my leg with that strong perfume of his and let the horrid stench linger. You know, nothing completely malicious but why, by the gods, why am I suddenly feeling my heart race? What is this? Am I getting turned on?  
It’s the Daddy thing, I know. Fuck. Fuck this British cunt and his thick accent. Fuck this cheeky bastard and his grade – A – DILF vibe. Fuck me for being in his car and sitting like a whore; yep, no proper lady here. But I mean, this is me! I’m not trying to get him to notice me, like why the fuck would I? I’ve been on many cars for all my life travelling from one house to another, school to another, delivering art requests, this was no different. He ain’t that special. So yeah, fuck him. Fuck him and this car, too. Jesus Christ, fuck me too while we’re at it.  
Blushing mad red, I sunk further down, not realizing my error. As I did so, both my pressed knees had gone high and my dress soothed down to my thighs. Real classy Minx, real classy. At least I managed to compose a heartfelt congratulatory text on ‘getting boned on a school day’ to my friend.

professordrjones:  
I’d gone to far. I could tell by the blush on her cheeks and yet I didn’t move my hand that instant. Instead a small squeeze and took it back to the gear shifter.  
“Who you texting? What’s so important you can ignore me? A boyfriend maybe?”  
I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought. I should be sat and not know much about her rather than her art and how she wrote. A name on a paper and a number on an exam paper, but no. I was eternally fucked. I bit at my lip in nerves. Was it too late to make up a story and drop her home? Would that look worse? Guilty even.  
This weekend I needed to pack up and discover a new good scenic spot to think in. Alone. Self discovery.  
“You’re being a bad satnav. I’m totally lost.” I smiled at her in the seat near me.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
I was laughing at the backseat as Tony, my friend, kept telling me how thrilled he was to get his dick into something other than his hand after a three-year hiatus on the love department. Tony and I have known each other since we were kids; we practically were raised together because his Dad and mine used to be in the same band before they fell out. The wives too; they started bickering at each other that when we peaked out of the minor status, we sold all our shit and moved out. Same city, different apartment, different jobs and different courses; I was the artsy one and he took the boring Engineering class, what a dull fucker.  
I gave David a bored stare as I tossed my phone aside. “Don’t you think I’d go for a boyfriend that owns a car and picks me up?” Single, had been for some years now; not really a bother. I go on dates mostly for the food and experience; nothing serious, nothing drastic, nothing successful. I yanked my feet down on the ground, leaned over with my knee on the break – handle, careful not to push it, grabbed the wheel and turned left; spare hand over David’s lap since I’d need leverage to actually reach and not topple while driving. I can drive; I just don’t have a license yet.  
“Floor it, I’m starving and I’m about to eat that smug off your face if I don’t get fed.” I replied jokingly before leaving the wheel for him to reclaim, shoving myself back in the same position in the backseat.  
We were close but now I totally lost my phone; must’ve rolled when we did the turn. And of course, like any teen addicted to their phone, I began shuffling all over, moving and tossing myself to look for my damn phone, stooping to cup the floor for it.


	4. Chapter 4

professordrjones:  
She looked back to me rather unimpressed.  
“Fair enough. My girlfriends never drive, I always get the job.” Great David, now it sounds like you think this is a date. It’s not a date. No one will ever figure that one out.  
Suddenly she was across my lap. I had no idea why. Was she going to grab at my jeans, begin to nuzzle into neck? My heart raced and my mouth went dry in anticipation and fear.  
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I shouted as she grabbed the wheel. “You’re twenty fucking three. What the hell are you playing at?” I know I’d lost my cool but the shock and fear and the teasing. It was too much. I grabbed back at the wheel and then her head was basically in my lap. Was she not listening to a word I said to her? “Just please don’t do that again. It scared me. You could have been hurt. I could have hurt you if you make me jump again.” I signed. I’d have to tell her.  
Ten and two, David. Ten and two. Concentrate on driving, but a red stopped me. I sighed again and began to talk.  
“This car doesn’t have a roll cage, and when I was younger I had a bad accident. I’m still a bit jumpy when people try to take over the driving so please,” I lifted her chin with two fingers softly. “Please don’t do that again to me. Please. Now sit up and put your belt back on. I really don’t want you getting hurt. The phone can wait. We’re nearly here. I can see the signs.” I went back to the road and hoped she wasn’t too confused by my outburst.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
Okay, so maybe the reason why I just darted back to scour for my missing phone, despite how it sat idle on the same place I tossed it at, is that I might have gotten myself in a tight spot. And by tight, I mean no legroom enough to fall elsewhere than David’s lap. I hurried off but failed instantly; being propped on your knees while half your body weight just shifted to where my face went wasn’t easy. My palms were everywhere as I desperately try to shove myself off and back to my corner. God, that was so embarrassing!  
I touched it. I fucking touched it and it was a fucking accident. What was I to do? I couldn’t climb up and grab the wheel, we’d die! My fingertips ended up right between his fucking thighs while my spare over his lap, successfully pushing me off free. I didn’t mean to! Heaven’s I didn’t! That wasn’t even on my list of ‘to do when twenty – three’! But we’re adults, both of us, yeah; we should act like one and pretend it never happened… But man was he large… Shut up, Minx!  
My cheeks were burning and my heart racing, note to self; mind your hands, Minx. These are for art, not inappropriately groping hot, older men.  
I dislike it when people yell and shout, it scares me and boy, was I ever scared that I sat all cooked up against the door. I stared down at my lap, bag close to my chest in an embrace. There’s a reason why I’ve always been a good student, I hate being told to do and scolded; it bugs me out, badly.  
Not long before David was touching me this time around; lifting my chin and tone a little softer than before. I didn’t answer but I listened, strapping the seatbelt on like a good girl. Not used to sitting proper at the moment, I raised my legs on the seat and leaned almost laying on my side.  
“Meanie….” I whispered.

professordrjones:  
In my shouting, she must have jumped and lost her balance because in a frantic few movement she managed to touch pretty much all of me. My inner thighs, my hips, even my cock got grabbed, which I’m fairly sure the second squeeze was to ascertain exactly what sat along my thigh.  
Best to ignore it. It was an accident. Discussing it would make us both feel more self conscious, I reasoned, but everywhere she touched now had a dull ache in my bones and skin.  
I felt dreadful as she cowered away from me.  
“I’m sorry” I whispered. “Truly sorry.” I bit back at my lips trying to keep some composure. “Good girl. Thank you. Now,” I cleared my throat. “Tell me more about these fancy balls.”  
Top fucking marks to David Jones. Let’s make it non sexual. Mention balls. What a wanker, I thought as I began to park the car.  
“Shush, little one.” I clicked my tongue and leaned back to look over the rear seats pushing my thighs against her short legs.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
Not even food would work as a smooth recovery by now, I fucking touched his dick; basically groped and squeezed it as I dismounted him. Fuck, fuck fuck. Wait till Tony hears this, he’d probably drive all the way and crash at my place with a bottle of Grade A – Bordeaux for confirming that I don’t have dick – phobia. I don’t know why, but he has this idea that I dislike men in general. I don’t, I’m just picky.  
As soon as he vehicle swerved to park, I popped the door open and slid right out. I’ve never needed to breathe so badly before. Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… “They’re called dango, you perv!” Pot calling the kettle back? Uh, Minx, you’re the one that groped your professor, you might wanna locate your chill. I did giggle lightly; for some reason, even at that scene, I don’t feel anything awkward or crossing the bounds. What is with this guy anyway? But I guess if he hadn’t consoled me after being too loud in the car, I would’ve acted differently. Tch, what am I even thinking about?  
I couldn’t wait any longer and my stomach was complaining with hanger; hunger and anger at the same time. I left my backpack in the car and waited for him to dismount the car. It wasn’t that late yet so not many people were around; by midnight, it’d be a whole buzzing city altogether.  
The scent of food was everywhere; fucking heaven is where we’re at. I waved at some of the storeowners I know since I go here a lot. Seeing my favorite stall, I grabbed him by his shirt or coat, or whatever, and dragged him to where the dango balls were being made. “Look at those beauty. Mmhm… I’d stuff my mouth with that any day.” I cooed, drooling almost at the screen as the woman asked for how many.  
“Just one stick please.” I’d let him try one in case he wouldn’t like it.  
Sweet and sticky balls of mochi on a stick, I picked one colored pink and held it over his lips; I had to be on my damn toes a little. “Totally worth the drive, babe.“

professordrjones:  
I groaned as the passenger door slammed shut and balked at my own idiocy. Three deep breaths and I managed to round the car to where was waiting, giggling at something.  
I began to speak but too soon I was being dragged by the shirt towards the rows of stalls. I smiled to myself at her eagerness, forgetting our relationship. Professional I reminded myself quietly.  
I looked at where she stopped. Balls on a stick. Could she choose anything more phallic looking. I pushed my hands into my pocket and tried to remember the names of the 1966 football team and calm myself down.  
I opened my eyes to see Minx, holding out the stick to me. I let my tongue slip past my lips, without thinking and took a tentative lick before biting softly into it. Instantly nodding and wiping some excess goo from my mouth.  
“Wow, that’s really good. You where telling the truth for once,” I winked at her and took another bite before pushing her hand towards her own mouth. “Let’s share and have a look round. See what’s good?”  
I handed over some loose change and slipped my hand around her waist as she ate and alternated the stick between us. A few couples smiled at us, clearly we didn’t look like a professor and student…

screwedupandbrilliant:  
The look on his face reminded me of the day Tony brought me here the first time. We were all over the place; we had dango balls, dried squid, dumplings, the whole A – Z of this Asian night market of sort. They’re really cheap and made to order; some reheated, some grilled, fried and sauced up really good. This place is my mini – heaven and I’m a quite pleased that I have someone to share the experience without worrying of how to drag their drunken teenage bodies home. I don’t drink but my friends do; it’s how I learned how to drive. Driving without license required being knowledgeable of what routes to take to avoid the cops. I think I’ve do be myself pretty well to find this secret garden of food.  
“Told you, hmmp!” Giggling, I couldn’t help but feel more and more relaxed in David’s company. In fact, so relaxed that I didn’t mind his arm snaking around me all protective or some shit. I’d welcome it, it’d be cold soon and the last thing I’d want is to openly ask for more than his soft jacket, which I left in the car. Good job, Minx. Good job. It’d help because with the crowd growing, it’d be hell to walk home by myself in the process of losing David. I’d better stick close.  
And that I did; I leaned, extended my arm to behind, hugging him with one arm, and matched my pace with him, eyes ogling at stalls trying to pick one would be best, friendly people here and there, sales talk and chatter. I popped the last button off the stick and bit half of it before idly raising it over to David’s mouth, all syrupy since I pried it open. “I’m looking for those itty, bitty fried baby crabs. They’re really crunch babe, you have to try it. I swear… I know it’s somewhere… here….”

professordrjones:  
I let her raise the last half of the ball to my mouth and opened letting her push it gently onto my tongue, feeling the soft syrup slide over my taste buds.  
“So good, sweetheart. Good choice. Whatever you want, you’re my leader today.” I squeezed her waist and pulled her a little close. I felt the bare skin of her arms. I shouldn’t allow her to call me babe, but maybe making a deal of it would be worse. Maybe it was just in a playful friendly way.  
“Where’s your bloody jacket? Correction, my jacket.” I growled into ear and pointed to the sign displaying what she wanted. I pulled the thick coat from my shoulder and slid it over hers. “Trying to get me naked, I know it.” And placed a wet, sticky kiss to her cheek.

screwedupandbrilliant:  
Fingers empty of the sticky treat, I pulled them back to suckle on them dry. Man, whatever they sauce or mixture they glaze dango with is a necessity in life. Savoring the honey – like goo by suckling on my index, I didn’t think much of the firmer grasp. I mean, there were people around and I’d be bound to pulled and pressed considering I’m such a shortcake compared to his giant English prick beside me. Oh shit, no. No. No. Here we go again. Here we go again with dick references.  
I blushed hard and bit my finger absentmindedly. I pulled it out with a wet pop, shook it and hissed, only to be interrupted by feeling the warm coat over my shoulders and David’s icky kiss. “  
Oh my god David, grow up!” That probably was the most immature thing to say, ever. But guess who’s blushingly grinning like an idiot and fighting the laws of playful banter by going on her toes and desperately rubbing the sticky substance off my check on his cheek? Yes, this gorgeous, cosmic babe right here. “You nasty! Come here you!”  
Arms high in the air, locking around David’s nape, pulling myself up to rub the sticky, wet moisture off my cheek against him. I was tossing my face left and right him, coating him with the dango glaze because, why the fuck not? If I’m getting all dirty, bet his English ass he’d go down in flames too! My hair’s gone a mess and the dango glaze had gone over my cheek, some on my hair, some over my lips and his too; noses fenced, cheeks rubbed, he sure would be getting a good rub from me, alright.

professordrjones:  
It was too late before I realised how bad it looked to be kissing her cheek and holding her close but as soon as I felt her tiny body squirm in my grip I couldn’t stop the stupid school boy smile coming to my face.  
“I am grown. You’re the little one around here.” I grinned and wrestled her close again and pulled her out of the crowds way to a gap between the trailers.  
Before I could even process, minx had her arms locked tight around my neck and instinctively mine went to her lower back to balance her swaying form. I felt her body pressed tightly against mine and hoped the gentle rock against my lower half. This needed to stop before my hands where roaming her body and our sticky mouths where exploring each other.  
“Noooooo, please, I surrender” I cried feeling the sticky stuff all over my face and trying to curl into her shoulders so she couldn’t get me anymore. “Truce, truce, I surrender, truce!”  
I bit down on the soft flesh of her neck.  
“I surrendered, bitch. Let me go!” I whined but never did my grip on her loosen. “Sorry, I surrendered you gorgeous bitch.”

screwedupandbrilliant:  
Oh this bitch, this bitch right here. Oh. My. God.  
So we were laughing, teasing and eating right? Nothing new between two people in a two – bit, all – you – can – eat bizarre with complete strangers. There were shops, stalls and banners around; alleyways, empty and full mini – restaurants that have people sampling their specials and just basking in the fragrant scent of cooked food, right? You’ve got fam, couples and best mates strutting about; laughing, teasing, shopping, all that jazz. So what made this different? Let me tell you, let me fucking tell you.  
It was all fun and games before one of us decided to bite; and I don’t mean the nasty bite to throw someone off, no. Oh – ho – ho, no. It was one of those, take me and fuck me in the car kind of bites; I shit you not. Those are the kind of bites you don’t just do to people; you don’t see some guy or girl randomly biting someone’s neck and expecting to be slapped or shoved off, no. You do that shit to someone and they either rip your clothes off and in cue fireworks. I really have been reading way too many love flicks this past week, I need to fucking purge my collection; no, purge my head most likely!  
I moaned. Yes, you heard me. I moaned like fucking whore who just had a dick fix. I’m a sucker for biting and choking; like fuck man, my ex – boyfriend bit me mid – sex, I was instantly horny and riding him to Aphrodite’s crib.  
Now, I had two choices; one was crumble and the other, well… Try to turn the tables around. I opted for the second option… I think.  
Turns out, I think I’m the one needing a good rub; I glared at him with the face that was definitely trying to conceal shame and all other things. I swallowed dry, looking away. I need to break free from him; I was getting… Well, bothered and hot; correction, extremes bothered and hot. Like. What. The. Fuck? “I… It’s… It’s in the car!”  
My voice quaked. At an instant, I ducked under his arms and shyly marched ahead knowing he’d eventually follow anyways. That’s it, we are so homebound. And off looking for where he parked the car I went. Not good… Not good… Not… Eek! Not good!!


End file.
